Portrait Gallery
by Sable Supernova
Summary: From the household names to those that are barely mentioned. A collection of character studies, written for challenges and competitions. Some AUs. One-Shot/Drabble Collection.
1. Albus: The Time I Have Left

Dumbledore knows he is dying, and considers the time left to him.

Written for the May Event at Hogwarts.

Words: 120

* * *

**The Time I Have Left**

I look at my hand, where the black rot is spreading from. The pain itself is a constant reminder. The sable tones to my skin are an unnecessary taunt.

I'm running out of time.

There is still so much that I should teach the boy, but I no longer have the seconds to spare. And the other boy, whose path is clouded so that he cannot see the choices lay before him.

I glance at the clock, wondering how many more hours I will see. I sigh.

I know that I will not wait for Death to come for me. I will give my life instead, to save a soul.

I send word to Severus, asking him to visit me.


	2. Draco: Dragon Pox

Written for The Dirty Minds Competition, for the prompt: "Breathing heavily, Harry grabbed Draco's wand and the blonde let out an impressive groan.

Words: 213

* * *

Breathing heavily, Harry grabbed Draco's wand and the blonde let out an impressive groan.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but Harry's right, we can't trust you with it right now," Ginny said, as she threw him a sympathetic look.

"I don't need your sympathy, Weasley," Draco retorted, though his voice was weak as his forehead gleamed with sweat. "You might as well take my right arm while you're at it."

"I'm not even a Weasley anymore," Ginny commented, taking his wand from Harry and placing it in the pocket of her uniform. "You must be ill, you usually manage better insults than that."

"Once a Weasel, always a Weasel," was all Draco managed to choke out in response.

"A few days, and he'll be back to his usual self," Harry noted with a smile. It was true, of course. Thanks to Hermione's new potion, Dragon Pox lasted merely a few days now, and was much less fatal. "If I hadn't thought to check on you, of course, who knows where you'd be right now," he added.

"Great," Draco muttered with a harsh cough. "I have a Weasley, a Potter and a Granger to thank for saving my life."

Harry grinned as he headed out of the room. He couldn't help but add, "Again."


	3. Xavier

_**Xavier Rastrick: **(1750—1836?) was a wizard entertainer who, notably, unexpectedly vanished during one of his performances before the very eyes of his audience, never to be seen again._

_· Challenge: Rastrick vanished halfway through a tap dancing show. Write a **200 word drabble** about what could have happened to him._

_Words: 200_

* * *

**Xavier**

Xavier was tired. No one knew, of course; he was an entertainer. It was his job to be jovial and merry all the time. But he'd made his living, saved for his retirement, shown his face in the right places.

And how the crowds begged for more. Xavier firmly believed they had no idea how exhausting they were. To them, they were just one person, with one little request of his time. To him, they were in their thousands.

He was eighty-six years old when he realised they would not leave him alone.

His career had gone from high to high, always rising, but he was an old man now. He tired sooner than he used to, but they didn't understand that. They thought he'd just slowly disappear with time, and they'd all talk of the good old days.

Xavier didn't want that.

The farm in Italy came first, bought in his brother's name. Then came the show. His last show, and he was the only one who knew he would not see its end.

End on a high, they'd always told him. Leave when the crowd is begging you for more.

So he did.

And no one ever knew.


	4. Morgana

**Morgan le Fay: **_also known as Morgana, was a very powerful Dark Witch who lived during the Middle Ages._

· Challenge: Write about Morgan le Fay.

Words: 215

* * *

**Morgana**

Morgana looked out of the window of her bed chambers with a scowl. Arthur was there, her half-brother, fated to unite the kingdoms, with his charming wife, Guinevere. For a long time, Morgana had considered the woman an enchantress. There seemed to be no other explanation for how the whole castle appeared under her spell. But a few choice questions proved that was not the case. She did not know.

Morgana felt herself being pushed into the shadows beside the bright light of this Queen, this woman who knew nothing of ruling a nation.

Morgana had trained for it her whole life, under King Uther and Merlin.

She'd had the opportunity to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of course, but she'd chosen not to; she'd chosen instead to apprentice herself to Merlin, right here in Camelot, where her loyalties lay.

But now, it no longer felt like home. With Uther gone, and her brother trying to wed her to King Urien, she had to act. Arthur had stolen the burden they had been raised to share together, and placed another, weaker woman at his right hand. He was squandering his power and his authority.

He needed to be taught a lesson, and Morgana knew there was no one to blame but herself.


	5. Merlin

**Merlin: **_was a wizard who lived during the medieval era. Little is known of his past, but he was a member of King Arthur's court, and arguably one of the most powerful wizards of all time._

· Challenge: Write about a loyal friendship. Alt., use the character of Merlin in your story.

Words: 170

* * *

**Merlin**

Merlin watched Morgana with a growing unease. He felt partly responsible for her, truly. He'd helped to create her, taught her all she once knew of magic. But the spells he'd seen her practicing recently… they were not of his guidance. It was Dark Magic; he knew it in his bones. Magic that wielded such power, at the cost of so much.

He'd shown her the path of loyalty and honour.

She'd chosen power and dishonesty.

He tried to talk to her, but she'd learned to spin riddles and lies, layering one on top of the other so that her reasoning seemed fact.

He didn't understand how deeply involved in herself she had become until he saw fit to consult the fates.

They'd told him she would be Arthur's ruin.

That left Merlin with a choice, a choice between two lives. The life of the woman he had helped to create, or the life of the man he was destined to protect.

It wasn't really a choice, in the end.


	6. Barty: A Prisoner

For the Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Challenge, for:

**Donaghan Tremlett: **_(b. 1972) was a Muggle-born wizard, who played bass for the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters._

Challenge: Write a Rockstar!AU

Words: 593

* * *

**A Prisoner**

In the 70s, Barty was a teenage boy with a leather jacket and a bass guitar. He had a revolution he convinced himself he believed in, a cause to fight for. Like any good rebel should, Barty spent over a decade in prison.

But this wasn't an average prison. This was Azkaban. A place so soulless he was left questioning everything he had done; everything he'd ever believed in; everything he knew about himself. After ten years, he realised he'd left himself with no choice. He'd chosen his God, he'd made his bed and he had to lie in it and live for something, or risk death for nothing. So when he made it out, he chose life. It wasn't much of a life, but it was living, which made it better than the alternative.

He was thirty-four when he got the chance he'd been waiting for. The Daily Prophet decided to raise the nation's spirits by announcing the ultimate fate, the Dementor's Kiss, had been served to him two days before it was due to happen. He had two days.

It wasn't easy, but they were keeping him in the Ministry holding cells. The security there had nothing on Azkaban, and the guard changeover wasn't always as smooth as it could have been. When a guard was late for his shift, the prisoners were left alone for six minutes.

Six minutes was more than long enough for Barty.

It took him two minutes and six seconds to silently reverse the charms and unlock the door. One minute to steal a wand and place a curse on the cleaner. One minute twenty seven seconds to change clothes and adopt the cleaner's manner. Forty three seconds to get to the Main Lobby in the lift. He was out on the streets of London with around thirty seconds to spare.

Barty was free. He knew how easily he could be recognised, but he also knew how to live under the influence of Polyjuice Potion. He'd done it before, after all.

But who would he be?

Walking down the street, he eyed up the shops as he passed, hoping to find inspiration in their goods. The shop selling electrical goods wasn't a great start; Barty still wasn't entirely certain what electricity was. The hairdressers reminded him he was in need of a trim. The travel agency was certainly an option. He was less recognisable abroad.

It was the music shop that made him stop in his tracks. The Fender in the window looked almost exactly like the one Barty owned at sixteen, except the body was sleeker, and some of the metal parts looked a little more technical. Next to it was an advert. A band was looking for a new bassist. This was it.

Barty walked away with a grin.

* * *

The Prisoners' first album, six months later, went straight to Number One in three countries, and they were planning their first tour. Barty quite liked his new look. The jawline reminded him of his old boyfriend, and the pale skin with the dark hair gave him a mysterious edge. He also looked killer in a leather jacket.

Six months after that, he was on a tour bus somewhere in America, wasted on the cheap liquor with a blonde woman sat in his lap whose name he could no longer remember. He was the person he dreamed of being when he was sixteen, in his parents' attic, playing along to _Runnin' With The Devil_.

It might have taken twenty years, but Barty was finally happy.

* * *

_Okay, time for some Author's Notes. The song referenced at the end was a top classic rock song in 1978, 'Runnin' With The Devil' by Van Halen. The Prisoners is a band name I made up. It seemed fitting. The boyfriend he referenced was in my mind Regulus Black, but you can imagine it's someone else if you don't like that pairing! But anyway, let me know what you thought!_


	7. Lyall: Angering The Bogeyman

_Written for:  
__Chocolate Frog Challenge: Carlotta Pinkstone - Incorporate a Muggle knowing about wizards/witches and magic in your story.  
__Writing Bingo: Lyall Lupin  
__Gringotts Prompt Bank: Jasmine Cooper (OC Name, Bonus), Moist (Bonus), "It's all true. The bogeyman is real and you found him." - Otis, House of 1,000 Corpses, Spiderplant, He hadn't meant to scare the child. (first line).  
__Words: 503_

* * *

**Angering The Bogeyman**

He hadn't meant to scare the child. He'd meant to give a warning, yes, but he didn't expect the child to run inside to her mother crying. He rolled his eyes and did the grown-up thing, going to knock on the door to speak to her mother.

Five minutes later, he found himself sat on a sofa in a cluttered, homely living room with a cup of tea and a slice of cake, staring at a spider plant that could do with a pruning. Only in England, he thought, could you make a child cry and be offered afternoon tea for the trouble.

The little girl sat on her mother's knee, staring at Lyall as if he was the worst person in the world. It made him rather uncomfortable. But the tea was warm and the cake was moist, so he supposed the situation had its positives.

Jasmine Cooper put her tea down on the table and Lyall copied her, assuming he would have to start talking now. She fixed him with her beady blue eyes

"So, Mr Lupin, would you care to explain what my daughter was crying about?" she asked, face stern but polite.

"I'm terribly sorry about that. I was only trying to warn her," Lyall explained.

"About what?" Jasmine prompted.

Lyall sighed. He would have to give the full story, he knew. There was no getting a half-truth past Jasmine Cooper.

"There's danger out there. I… I upset the wrong person. A dangerous person. I have reason to believe he's coming for me. But he won't attack me… he'll come for my son. It's what he does. I'm worried that if he's not around, and your daughter is… she'll get caught up in the crossfire," Lyall admitted, stumbling over his words.

"What will he do?" Jasmine asked without a moment's hesitation.

Lyall took a sip from his tea as he thought about how to answer. There was no easy way. "He'll turn her into a monster. There's no easy way to explain it, but she won't be herself anymore. There'll be… complications."

Jasmine frowned. She knew he hadn't told her the full story, that was clear, but the look in her eyes… Lyall didn't think she wanted to know the truth.

"Explain," she asked, although it was more of an order.

"He's a werewolf, Jasmine. Everything I've told you; everything you laughed off - it's real, Jasmine, and it's dangerous, sometimes. Like now. The werewolf's fate is not pretty. Please understand," he begged.

She turned a shade of magnolia that matched the wall behind her.

"It's all true. The bogeyman is real and you found him. And you angered him. Now we have to suffer for that?" she asked, trying to understand.

"I'm sorry, Jasmine. I know it's my fault. I'm just trying to keep you safe," he told her.

She nodded in understanding. "You can go now."

Lyall sighed once more. He supposed he'd just lost a friend, but she'd heard him at least. That was better than nothing.


	8. Gabrielle: Diana

Written for Gringotts Prompt Bank:

Restriction: no letter k  
Better word for said: grimaced  
Restriction: Each sentence is only 7 words long.**  
**Creature: Thestral  
Celebrity: Diana, Princess of Wales

* * *

**Diana**

Gabrielle wasn't even supposed to be there. She'd been banned from leaving the house. Gabrielle never did as she was told.

She wandered the Paris streets in shadow. At the explosive sounds, she recoile instinctively. Her sable clothes meant she was invisible.

But she saw Diana, Princess of Wales. She saw the moment life left her. It was so clear; it was final.

She watched death and somehow felt nothing.

She thought of her lessons as school. Maybe she could see a thestral now. Maybe that shouldn't have crossed her mind. Not yet, anyway; wounds were fresh.

Maybe being housebound wasn't the worst thing.

"Maybe the punishment means she loves me." She grimaced at the thought and left.


	9. Scabior: Fear

**Written for:**  
**Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Dymphna Furmage - Write about a worst fear  
**Writing Bingo:** Scabior  
**Gringotts Prompt Bank:** Creature: Snake, Spell: Petrificus Totalus - Full body bind curse, Genre: Horror, Phobia: Erotophobia (Fear of sexual love/abuse), Quote: "Just 'cause you're beautiful, that doesn't mean that you can treat people like they don't matter." - Cameron, 10 Things I Hate About You  
**Words:** 394

* * *

**Fear**

Scabior woke to the sound of hissing, peeling his eyelids up. His throat was as parched as if it had been a thousand years since he last sipped water, and his head throbbed. He was lying down, good, but his limbs were lead, unmoving.

As his eyes began to focus, they narrowed in on the snake sat on his chest. The panic began to ruse within him, but his mouth wouldn't form a scream; his body would not throw the snake off.

"You're under Petrificus Totallus, Scabior. It's no use trying to fight. Relax," a soft voice called. If Scabior had been able to move, he'd have frozen at the sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her approach, daring red dress and dark, curled hair. She swayed, seductive, as she walked, and Scabior's panic became even more pronounced.

He knew it was all his master's fault, but he couldn't find it in him to be angry. Voldemort had done what any man would have done in that situation. Scabior had disappointed him, and Scabior had paid the price. Voldemort had told them all of Scabior's deep fear. It was only a matter of time before someone used it against him.

When she was close enough to touch him, she didn't. She leaned forward, over him, their bodies inches apart, and looked him dead in the eye. The snake hissed up at her; she paid it no mind.

"I thought the snake was a nice touch, don't you? It adds a hint of drama and fear," she said, as if waiting for him to respond.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you enjoy yourself," she added with a tantalising grin.

If Scabior could move, he wouldn't be able to fight her logically. He was past the point of logic. He knew exactly what was coming and it filled him with carnal terror. The only outward sign was the tension in his muscles, the sweat dripping into his hairline.

She dragged a long, painted fingernail down from his collarbone and purred. "It's just so easy."

And then she turned, and walked away. As she neared the door, the body-bind curse lifted, and Scabior gasped.

"Just 'cause yer beautiful, that don't mean you can treat people like they don't matter!" hr wheezed.

She didn't look back.

He knew it had only been a warning.


	10. Romilda: Pretty

Written for:  
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Sacharissa Tugwood - External Beauty  
Gringotts Prompts Bank: Romilda Vane, "Why is it that you search for your own beauty in the eyes of others?" - Emma Bleker *NEW*, A beauty spell (no known incantation), "Be content with what you have. You have enough to live a happy life." - Lailah Gifty Akita, Gin  
433 words.

* * *

**Pretty**

Romilda stared into the mirror like it was the source of all her contentment, with glazed over eyes and a sickly smile.

She raised her wand to her hair and cast an incantation that took the damp from the shower brunette waves into tumbling, glamourous curls. She then pointed the wand at her own face, and whispered softly, feeling more and more normal with every passing second as her imperfections smoothed themselves out.

"You know you're beautiful, don't you?" a man asked, leaning against a bedpost with dark rings around his eyes beneath his shaggy mop of dark hair. He brushed a thumb against the stubble on his jaw as he considered her.

She smiled brightly. "Of course I do."

"Then why aren't you happy?"

Her eyebrows furrowed together. Of course she was happy. What on earth did he mean? Why was he always playing games?

"Face it, Romilda. Face the truth. You have your good lucks, you're nice house, a devilishly handsome boyfriend," he gestured to himself with a smirk, "but you're sitting here feeling empty, aren't you?"

"You don't know me," she warned, as if his words weren't getting to her.

"Yes, I do. I've known you a long time, Romilda." He laughed a little, at the answer sitting in plain sight in front of them. "Why is it that you search for your own beauty in the eyes of others?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him through the glass of the mirror. He looked back and sighed.

"You know what I mean. In the darkness, alone, you can look in that mirror and think you're beautiful. But in the light, with the crowds, you strive for their affection and approval like you'd be nothing without it."

She stared into the mirror and considered herself. She was beautiful. She knew that. But what was beauty without love? What was pretty without friends? What was attraction without affection.

"I'm not just talking about the mirror, love. You... You're heart... It's beautiful. You'e beatiful. Inside and out." Romilda snorted at the thought. She was certain he was the only one that believed that.

"Be content with what you have. You have enough to live a happy life. In fact, you owe it to yourself." Romilda picked up the tumbler in front of her and drained it of gin, wincing at its strength.

"You're wrong. You don't know what I've done. This beauty? It's skin deep. It's all I have. Inside, I'm a charred, black, withered little thing. One day, you'll see," she warned, before turning to walk away.


	11. Harry: Preparations

Written for Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Ignatia Wildsmith - Use the Floo Network in your story.

Words: 153

* * *

**Preparations**

Harry checked his tie in the mirror, straightening up the knot. He smoothed down the lapels of his suit and attempted to do the same with his hair, but he quickly gave that up as a bad job.

It was the first day of Auror training, and he had to admit, he was nervous. More nervous, in fact, than he was facing Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts. He supposed he hadn't had time to prepare, then.

He headed towards the fireplace, taking a pinch of the green powder on the mantle piece and clumsily dropping some from his shaking fingers. He took in a deep breath and steeled himself.

_It'll be okay. You'll be okay. You've faced worse than this, Harry Potter._

He threw the powder into the fire, and with a shaking voice, shouted, "Ministry of Magic!"

At least the commute wasn't terrible. He just had to make it through today.


	12. Fleur: The Sea

Written for the Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge - Glanmore Peakes - A sea or beach must be incorporated into your story.

Words: 275

* * *

**The Sea**

Fleur often came down to the beach by their home when she was feeling sentimental. Something about the fresh sea breeze, the rolling waves crashing against the shore, reminded her of home. It was colder than the beeches she'd grown up with, but it was still a beech. It still looked out over the sea, impossibly deep and wide. It was just that sea that separated her from her childhood. Just a bit of water, that was all.

But today, it wasn't enough for Fleur. Today, she needed her mum. She wouldn't admit it in front of Bill, or any of the Weasleys, in fact. They were perhaps the only ones who would understand, being close as they were. It still felt like weakness.

If the war had taught Fleur anything, it was to never show your weakness. You never know if you're around someone who might one day use it against you.

Right now, Fleur felt weak. She felt weak, because suddenly, that morning, she'd learned what the future held for her, and she didn't know how to cope with it. She didn't know the first thing about how to deal with it, and she didn't think she had the time to learn.

She hadn't told Bill yet, but she knew she would have to the moment he got home from work.

First, she would say it here. A whisper on the wind, a quiet resolution. She would own it, for herself, and accept it, before she told him.

She sighed and looked at the horizon, wind whipping her hair around her face. "I'm going to be a mother."

Fleur smiled, and turned away.


	13. Narcissa: Gin

Written for the Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Oswald Beamish - Write about an interspecies friendship or romance

Words: 386

* * *

**Gin**

"You know, sometimes it feels like you're my only friend," Narcissa sighed, draining the gin from her glass and sighing. She bowed her head until it almost touched the fine oak dining table.

She didn't know where her husband was. She rarely did, these days. She saw him in the evenings for dinner, and occasionally, when he woke her up at night so he could have his wife. She often just rolled over and opened her legs, and tried to go back to sleep. She would be eternally grateful that the man never lasted long.

"Dobby is sorry for Mrs Malfoy," the house elf said, his ears drooping low as his eyes grew wider than usual.

"Please, Dobby, call me Narcissa. When my husband is away, at least."

"Yes, M- Narcissa." Dobby agreed, bowing low.

She snorted as his nose touched the floor and poured herself another glass. She stared at the decanter, as if for a second she considered doing away with the tumbler altogether.

"You know, Dobby, I miss the days when I was just Narcissa. Before I was Mrs Malfoy. Life was simpler then," Narcissa rambled on, knowing she would have to remember to swear Dobby to secrecy afterwards. "I used to love reading Peter Pan. I didn't understand why at the time, but I do now. If only Neverland had been real. If only I hadn't had to grow up."

"Dobby thinks all people have to grow up, M- Narcissa," Dobby told her, just so he had something to say, so he could prove he was listening. It seemed important that he did, even if he didn't understand.

"But I had to grow up. I had to make my family proud. Maybe they'll put that on my gravestone. 'Here lies Narcissa Malfoy. She was miserable, but she made her family proud.' I'm starting to think it wasn't worth it," she admitted, downing the sour liquid with a small wince.

"But M- Narcissa has a son! Dobby thinks she loves him."

"Of course she does. I do. He's the best thing in my life. But I think that's too much weight for a child to carry."

There was a pause. Dobby didn't know what to say. "You know, you're not half-bad for an elf. I suppose those big ears are good at listening."


	14. Luna: Night and Day

Written for Hogwarts Writing Club, for the prompt: pretend

Words: 171

* * *

**Night and Day**

When the Gryffindor boys, two years older, told Luna they wanted to be friends, she didn't believe them.

Too many kids had played those cards before; too many hearts had made a show of reaching out to hers.

She smiled anyway, impossible hope compelling her to move, speak, "Welcome, friend."

Her heart was an ocean. Her heart was a tree. Reaching up, eternally, for the life-saving light of day no matter how many times it shone just to run away; no matter how many nights she shivered through.

Like last time, their words were false. Their kindness was not an answer but a question. It was a game to them. It was her life. It was only an act to them, no harm intended; it was only pretend. It was a broken heart everytime and she smiled. She always smiled.

As she wandered the cold castle barefoot, looking for her shoes, she refused to cry. This was just the night, no need to be afraid.

Sunrise would be here again soon.


	15. Blaize: Travel Sickness

Written for Hogwarts Writing Club for the prompt: motion

Words: 315

* * *

**Travel Sickness**

The motion jolted him awake. At first, his half-asleep mind panicked at the thought of the train having hit something.

Then the darkness washed over. Not the darkness of deep evil, of great sadness, of sheer despair. The darkness of lacking. The darkness that light cannot penetrate.

He knew what it was.

The train had not hit anything. The train had been stopped. The panic settled in his gut as a deep-seated fear took over him, gluing him to his chair.

He looked to his friends, sat around him. Most of them looked vaguely uncomfortable. Malfoy had even begun to laugh. The boy had never known darkness, not yet. He had nothing to fear.

Happy thoughts rolled over and over in Blaise's mind. He would not let anyone see his fear. He would not be weak. He fought not to remember the worst of his short life. Darkness begged him to remember.

The first ice cream he'd ever tasted was dripping onto blood-stained shards of glass. Summer's undying laughter echoed around a stone-cold cellar, ceaseless. The happy memories he tried to focus on; the dark ones he tried to push away. All were one.

He swallowed, hard, tensing every muscle in his face, holding them stoic. He was a Slytherin, and he did not fail.

Malfoy turned to look at him, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Blaise looked back and smiled, as naturally as he could, as sweat pooled on his brow.

Malfoy looked away. "Come on," he said, gesturing to Crabbe and Goyle.

Blaise didn't know where they were going. He didn't care. It was three fewer pairs of prying eyes.

He looked around his remaining friends one more time, ensuring no eyes rested on him, no ears picked up his racing heart. He felt movement to his left. Pansy slipped her hand into his with a small smile.

Blaise swallowed once again.


	16. Marcus

Written for Writing Bingo at Diagon Alley, for the prompt Marcus Flint.

**Marcus**

At Hogwarts, Marcus was the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. It never mattered, then, that the title was all he had. It didn't matter that it was the only thing he was good at. He was good at something, and it was something that helped his house, so no one really minded about anything else. He was respected by most in his house, and tolerated by the rest. It was all the boy needed.

But Hogwarts doesn't last forever.

Marcus was brought down to reality with a resounding, mighty whack on the head. His family name was a Pureblood name, which still counted for something in some circles, but it lacked the weight the Malfoys and Crabbes had. It didn't make up for his lack of pass grades at NEWT level, having only passed Acceptably in Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and Charms.

He'd spent the whole summer applying for jobs, starting out with administrative jobs at the Ministry he never heard back from, and eventually trying to make do with part time shop assistant positions - anything to get out of the house.

The family business wasn't even an option anymore - not since the Malfoys had all but bought them out of house and home. They couldn't afford to pay the extra wage package.

It was Borgin and Burkes who finally gave him a chance, on Saturdays, in the stock room. His mother pretended to be proud of him on his first day, but he could see it didn't reach her eyes. His dad didn't even bother seeing him up.

It seemed, then, poetically just, when he realised he didn't know the spells needed to detect dangerous dark magic on objects. He realised, of course, much too late, after picking up some old piece of junk, just a tatty old box. He wondered if there was anything valuable inside, so opened it, his wand tucked safely into his pocket. There was just a flash of green light, nothing more. A flash of green light that imprinted itself on his retinas as he tumbled to the ground, his heart no longer beating.


	17. Mary: Dying

**Dying**

Avery and Mulciber meant for me to die that day. I knew it at the time, and I haven't been able to forget it since. It's like Death almost claimed me as his own, but I was stolen from him grasp right at the last moment. It's like he's desperate to get me back.

It started with breakfast. I'd only been back at school for two weeks, and I choked on a piece of toast. Everything faded to grey so quickly that my heart had stopped beating before someone managed to magic the food out of my oesophagus. It felt like falling asleep.

That wasn't the only time Death tried to catch me unawares. Things like that began to happen more and more often. My friends told me I was lucky. It doesn't feel lucky. It feels like I'm counting down the seconds of my life, waiting for the next moment, wondering if it'll be my last.

* * *

**A/N:** Written for: 200 Characters in 200 Days - Mary MacDonald  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Uric the Oddball - Write about an unusual near death experience.  
157 words.


	18. Armando: A Headmaster

**A Headmaster**

Armando sat behind the desk in his office, opposite a younger man in sky blue robes. The Headmaster's face pulled downwards with its usual solemnity, but his eyes shone with rare, honest emotion.

"What did you know of this Myrtle? Did you teach her?" Armando asked, curious in his despair.

"Nobody knew much of her, it seems. I didn't think that was possible here. She was a quiet girl. She kept to the shadows by the walls. Never had a detention." Albus replied, sadness echoing his words.

"Her mother was beside herself with grief. I've never seen anyone like it. She wasn't trying out in agony, no. Her silence was all the more heart wrenching." Armando took a aip from his glass - the one glass he allowed himself as a luxury at the end of each day. "This school failed that girl, Albus. We can't ever forget that. We all failed in our duty of care for her and that hangs over all of our heads. And still we're no nearer to solving this mystery. It's only confirmed my doubts that we haven't seen the worst of it yet. I believe these are the darkest days Hogwarts has ever known."

Albus dipped his head in grave agreement. "The school will survive, Armando. Hogwarts has always been here. It always will."

"I'm glad someone believes that, Albus."

* * *

**A/N: **Written for: 200 Characters In 200 Days - Armando Dippet  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge - Lestrange - Prompts: Detention, Forget, Confirm, Possible  
227 words.


	19. Hermione: Contentment

**Contentment**

If life was less about the big events and more about all the little moments along the journey, then Hermione knew this one was important. She'd left the party behind at the cottage with a smile on her face and a need for fresh air. She was grateful for the party, she really was. She'd finally graduated from Hogwarts, and everyone gathered were so proud of her. It made her feel like she actually belonged in this world that had fought so hard to keep her out.

She'd gone down to the beach to really appreciate it, barefoot and in her nice dress, hair loose in the wind. No sound but the shore's gentle to and fro. The screams of her memories that still kept her awake at night sometimes could not reach her here.

Hermione knew she was still young, and that meant there was more hardships and heartbreak yet to come for her, but she could finally say she was okay with that. She was happy. She knew herself. She knew her limits and her strengths, what she believed in and what she'd fight for. She could trust in that, in herself. She'd be okay.

* * *

**A/N: **Written for: Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge - Jobberknoll - Prompts: trust, sound, scream, moment.  
200 Characters in 200 Days Challenge - Hermione Granger  
197 words.


	20. Astoria: Motherhood

**Motherhood**

Astoria knew when she gave up her ambition to be the perfect mother. It was some time after four in the morning when Scorpius was two weeks old and her husband was still asleep, and she vowed it really wasn't worth the effort when Scorpius wasn't even pretending to be the perfect son. He'd screamed so loudly it sounded as though he was dying of starvation, but when she'd gotten herself comfortable with him, it turned out he didn't really want food after all, he just wanted his mother. Astoria could appreciate that it was cute, but it didn't make up for the sleep deprivation.

She looked over at the pile of parenting books on the nightstand with tired derision, wondering once again if their babies were even human. Already, she found herself wondering what kind of man he would grow up to be, even though she knew it was his own decision to make, many years from now. She tried to stop thinking about the future whenever she caught herself, though. She wouldn't tell Draco, but sometimes it felt like she was wishing the years away already. It felt like she was already looking back, wondering where the time had gone, because hadn't he only been born yesterday?

Sometimes, a lifetime didn't feel like long enough.

* * *

**A/N: **Written for: Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge - Scorpius Malfoy - Write about Scorpius Malfoy  
200 Characters in 200 Days Challenge - Astoria Greengrass  
Writing Bingo: Familial Pairing: Astoria and Scorpius  
217 words.


	21. Merlin: Fools

Written for:  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Merlin.  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Gregory the Smarmy - Write about someone who may have used ulterior magical means to worm their way into the royal family, either for love or to make a fortune.  
371 words.

* * *

**Fools**

Merlin didn't like to think of his childhood. As a Druid boy, his family and people had been persecuted wherever they went. Chased from wilderness to wilderness, through towns and villages, always hungry, always surviving. Never living. He had his mother, of course, and his friends, but it was not a happy time. It wasn't for any Druids. The world was too afraid of magic, of what it could be used for, that it refused to see any good in it.

But Merlin was _good_ at magic. When it came to playing tricks on the elders, the other children were caught as soon as the thought of the act crossed their minds. Merlin was never once caught. He was too good for them, too quick, too subtle. He learned that with practice and patience, he could be really good. When Merlin's mother grew sick, she asked Merlin to take him to her old friend in Camelot.

Camelot, the place of courts and knights, the place little boys dreamed about, was now within Merlin's grasp. He refused to let it go. While his mother recovered under the supervision of a wizened medical man, a former Druid, Merlin snuck around parts of the city he wasn't supposed to be in, and found things out he wasn't supposed to know. He worked out who he'd have to trick. An old man with a long beard and many large golden chains advised the King. He believed in the Druid ways, and studied prophecies and beliefs of the people religiously. That was Merlin's chance.

It wasn't that Merlin _wasn't_ prophesized to be the aide of the future King Arthur, the Once and Future King, the current King's son. It was simply that Merlin wrote the prophecy. It looked authentic enough that it fooled the Adviser. It certainly said the right things about Arthur being the best possible King who would unite the warring kingdoms under one crown. Merlin was right in his childish beliefs. All men were fools.

All it took were words that sounded right and looked right, and he was no longer poor and persecuted. He was living in the lap of luxury. Sometimes, you only needed ambition for things to work out alright.


	22. Gilderoy: The First Time

Written for:  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Gilderoy Lockhart.  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club: Beaumont Majoribanks - Someone takes credit for another person's work.  
276 words.

* * *

**The First Time**

Gilderoy Lockhart was going to be somebody. He was sure of it. He would make sure of it. The problem was, he still didn't know what yet. In fact, he wasn't sure there was even anything he was any good at. He wasn't terrible at anything, either, but he wasn't an expert at anything. He didn't have a _forte_.

He was sat under a tree in a quiet area of Hogwarts' Grounds, trying to get some studying done for his Final Exams, when he overheard a snippet of a conversation.

"I've found this really cool spell that'll project an image - any image - up into the sky. It'll stay there for hours unless they can find the counter-spell," a boy said as they walked past where Gilderoy sat.

"What are you going to project?" his friend asked, casually.

"Emily's face," the first boy grinned. Gilderoy stood, an idea already half formed. This boy's plan was brilliant, and all he needed was the spell.

"What's the spell?" the second boy asked, wondering, and the first boy muttered the magical words and explained the wand movements. _Perfect._

"Sorry about this, chaps," Gilderoy said with a characteristic smile before drawing his wand. He'd performed the memory wipes before they even knew what was coming. Gilderoy had never performed one on an actual person before, and wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. He thought he'd probably taken more memory than he needed to, but he was sure it would be no bother. Most people don't use most of their memories anyway, and his plan was by far more important. He just had to find the perfect picture of himself.


	23. Padma: Whole Alone

Written for:  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Padma Patil.  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Perpetua Fancourt - Include the location of Ravenclaw Tower in your story.  
198 words.

* * *

**Whole Alone**

Padma liked Ravenclaw Tower. In the Common Room, and in the dormitory, she was just Padma. She didn't feel like a half of a person, here. She wasn't defined in terms of her twin.

She loved Parvati, of course, and wouldn't be able to live without her, but Padma was herself without Parvati. She wasn't Padma, the smart one, like she was at home. That didn't make her special here. No one asked, "Which one are you again?" without a hint of embarrassment that they'd made the two a tandem act in their heads, impossible to tell apart.

They weren't even identical. Basic biology said that meant they'd never even been two halves of the same whole - they'd always been separate, individual, whole all on their own. They'd always felt that way. That didn't matter in the eyes of strangers and, sometimes, even in the eyes of their friends.

Padma looked around at the blue and bronze, the comfort the circular room offered. The books on the walls gave the room a unique, intellectual musk. She knew that at that moment, Parvati was surrounded by red and gold, feeling equally at home. Padma smiled, knowing that was okay.


	24. Salazar: Parseltongue

Written for:  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club: Herpo the Fowl - Include a snake in your story.  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Salazar Slytherin  
389 words.

* * *

**Parseltongue**

Salazar learned he was a Parselmouth as a child. At seven years old, he travelled to the wetlands in the easterly Danish Kingdom of East Anglia. It was a simple adder he met, startled and defensive, and the little boy tried to tell the snake not to be afraid. The snake heard him, and was not afraid. He tried to convince his father to allow him to take the snake home. His father declined, at first, not knowing much about how to look after an amphibian, but his son persisted, and tried to prove to his father that the snake understood him when he spoke. All Salazar's father heard was a strange, slythering, assonant tongue, and he was intrigued enough to change his mind.

Almost twenty years later, sometime after the death of Salazar's beloved adder, the boy-turned-man set his sights on bigger prizes. He'd learned from books, learned men and sailors at the docks that there were places in the world with bigger, more colourful, deadly snakes. He heard about the Basilisk, a mythical, magical creature. Salazar organised himself a portkey to the Middle East, and began his quest. He honed his craft for a number of months, making many allies among the serpents and instilling fear into those who saw him work. He found venomous pythons, provoking them to attack him before talking to them, calming them down and, ultimately, turning them on any unfortunate soul who happened to present themselves as a worthy target. He learned the name of his skill, and exercised its limits.

Before returning home, Salazar followed a local folk tale in a small village in the mountains of a lonely country. They believed a Basilisk lived nearby, in a cave above them, who'd just spawned a litter. No one, of course, had seen the creature first-hand. They'd caught impressions and movement out of the corners of eyes, and they'd been left with the victims to nurse and bury. Salazar had no interest in helping the villagers, but he did have an interest in the creature, and her children. Maybe, he considered, the children were small enough for him to take back home, to nurture and control inside the walls of his own small kingdom.

He couldn't help but think it might prove one day to be profoundly useful to own a Basilisk.


	25. Fenrir: Lycacomia

Written for:  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club: Vindictus Viridian - incorporate any legal curse.  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Fenrir Greyback  
338 words.  
AN: The Lycacomia Curse is one of the ways someone can be turned into a Werewolf. It's Dark Magic, obviously, but it's not illegal.

* * *

**Lycacomia**

Fenrir lived most of his life on the wrong side of the tracks. Something excited him about the crime and the violence; the promise of rich rewards and the fear of mortal danger made his blood pump faster in anticipation.

But he was careful. He learned how to keep his head about him, how to show respect, how to keep under the radar before he was twenty. By thirty, he was certain he knew the rules of the game. He had friends in high places, people he could turn to if he needed back up and a nice, comfortable life for himself.

But he forgot something important. One of the first rules he ever learned, in fact, back when he would stare wide-eyed at the underworld in all its macabre glory. Not everyone was playing the same game.

He'd had a job for some spear-headed guy with a temper issue, along with a few other younger runners. He'd played his part by his own rules, done everything right on his part, but a few silly mistakes by the younger men meant the job had fallen through. Fenrir went home and tried to forget about it. He'd done his part, he'd kept his head down. If the boss wanted to get angry, it would be someone else's head.

Except it wasn't. You see, the boss changed the rules. Fenrir had been the most experienced, he claimed, and Fenrir had been offered the greatest reward, which might have been true, but this apparently meant that the ultimate responsibility lay with Fenrir, and thus did the punishment.

The boss drew his wand, and Fenrir thought for a moment that this would be it for him.

"You left me to the dogs, Greyback. It's only fair I do the same. Lycacomis," he whispered, sinister.

Fenrir thought he'd got off lightly when he didn't initially feel anything. He thought he'd be okay.

Then the panic set in. "What did you do?" he asked, nervousness beginning to show.

The boss just laughed. "You'll see."


	26. Gellert: The News

Written for:  
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Gellert Grindelwald - Write about Gellert Grindelwald  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Gellert Grindelwald  
405 words

* * *

**The News**

He didn't get much news through. He didn't get much of anything through, really, except for the cold and bitter wind, and an hour or so of sunlight in the late morning. They occasionally brought him food, but it was never three meals a day, not anymore. They'd fed him enough when they'd first imprisoned him, but over time, it began to wear off. Gellert wondered if they'd begun to forget about him.

He wouldn't blame them, if they had. He often wished he could forget about himself, shed his old skin like it was a curse and be born anew, with a bright future still laid out ahead of him.

They brought him news today. They didn't give him any details, and they'd seemed uncertain in the telling, like they weren't sure why they were giving him the news, or what his reaction would be, only that it was important he knew. Gellert's history, he knew, had long been reduced to folklore and myth in the eyes of these young men.

But he was grateful they'd told him, all the same.

Albus was dead.

Albus, the only man believed able to match Gellert; who he'd fought with on a cold moor in the most infamous duel of the 20th Century to date; who'd won. Albus, the school teacher; the mentor; the man desperate to make amends for his own lack of sight as a young man, ready to instil a sense of direction into the hearts of those that were like he himself had been. Albus, the bright-eyed youth with a brilliant mind and big ideas; the boy with the responses to Gellert's unanswered questions; the boy with questions only Gellert had ever been able to answer. Albus, the friend.

The men who gave him the news only really knew of the duel.

Gellert remembered the look of anguish on Albus' face as he fell to his knees by the body of his sister, Ariana. Gellert knew what Albus didn't want to know, and chose never to tell. In that moment, he saw the human cost of conflict, and felt remorse. It was a feeling he'd been trying to let go of ever since.

It was the reason he spared Gregorovitch.

But he knew that Albus, too, had always harboured remorse.

He looked out through the bars of his cell into the darkness of the northern evening.

"Did you ever forgive yourself, old friend?"


	27. Bill: Gringotts Seminar

Written for:  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club - Gringott: Use the location of Gringott's Bank  
200 Characters in 200 Days - Bill Weasley  
All About You Challenge - Write about someone deciding Curse-Breaking as a career.  
419 words.

* * *

**Gringotts Seminar**

Bill hadn't yet decided what he wanted to do. He knew he should have made his mind up. He had only a few short months left at Hogwarts, and then he'd be out on his own in the real world, making his way. But Bill hadn't yet decided, which was why he was currently sat in a long, surprisingly light room, deep in the belly of Gringott's bank, on Easter Monday.

He was there for a few different reasons. Firstly, because the seminar was being run by goblins. Bill had always found goblins to be an irksome, grumpy group of people, and he was a curious sort of fellow. Secondly, because he'd seen an advertisement in the Daily Prophet, which very much focused on the dangerous side of the career, and he wondered if a career could really be that deadly. Thirdly, and perhaps the least impressive reason of all, was that he was on track for the right grades to become a Curse Breaker.

He expected to fall asleep quite quickly, and take advantage of the free food on offer. He expected all the perks of the position had been placed in the advertisement, and the boring, office-based realities would shortly come out. He expected his intrigue to die out in favour of disillusionment.

He'd been wrong.

It seemed the position was just as riveting as the advertisement had made out. The goblins at Gringotts were as much in favour of cutting out the needless paperwork as the Curse-Breakers themselves. All the goblins cared about was the gold, leaving their agents on the field as much free reign as possible to ensure they brought it in. He would be his own boss, essentially, travelling where he wanted to and working as much as he liked - the only caveat being that more work equalled more pay. He'd have to report in to the Bank only to deliver his acquisitions and attend performance reviews twice yearly. Training was six months, two of which were in the bank before accompanying a Curse-Breaker in the field for four months.

And that was it.

Once the seminar was over, others began to trickle out, but the veteran and current Curse Breakers were encouraging questions. Bill took out his programme, scribbled all over with a conjured pencil, and tried to make sense of his own concerns and desire for more detail. He hadn't felt this sort of excitement in years.

He hardly dared believe it, but he thought he might have found his calling.


	28. Scorpius: Dad

**Written for:**  
**Hogwarts Writing Club - 100 prompts in one story:** chocolate, church, closet, demand, depend, do, doubt, current, dear, deep, appropriate, aside, back, beautiful, best, beyond, black, blue, born, both, brave, calm, certain, choo choo, complicated, consistent, constant, encourage, explain, explore, dead, lock, bubble, bunny, button, carpet, cat, chair, cheek, adjust, affect, agree, allow, be, bear, become, emotional, face, active, ball, banana, bath, bottle, book, demon, discipline, distance, build, carry, emergency, evening, dress, difficult, eat, cry, consider, challenge, force, comfort, complain, even, exciting, accident, adult, affair, afternoon, age, all, anxiety, anywhere, arrival, baby, beginning, birthday, career, day, chance, childhood, choice, concern, confusion, cool, correct, couple, crazy, day, expert, curious, bedroom, cost  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 534\. Lonely Road

* * *

**Dad**

The affair was dead right from the beginning. It had been exciting to explore, beautiful and crazy. It allowed them to step away from their adult lives, leave their work shoes at the door and turn the lock. They both knew it wouldn't last, that reality would come knocking, forcing them back.

The accident happened completely by chance. It hadn't been a choice. They'd done everything correctly, by the book. They'd been fighting the current all along, and inevitably ended up in deep water.

They didn't want to be a couple. They were hardly even friends; they were certain they'd never work out. They did, however, agree on one thing. Despite all the anxiety they felt, and all the difficulties they knew they would face, they remained consistent. They would keep the baby.

All of their friends and family told them they were mad. There was confusion; they were concerned; the two of them were barely out of childhood themselves. It was complicated. Scorpius was left with no choice but to put some distance between himself and his family, for a little while. Rose, who'd always depended on her mother, leant on her Granny Molly for comfort.

When the day came for the child to be born, Scorpius rushed to meet Rose at the hospital in the early hours of the morning. Rose had gone into an early labour. By the afternoon, she was still contracting. It was dinner time when they'd declared it an emergency, rushing her to the theatre for surgery. Magic can fix most ills, but the risk of complications to the new born had to be considered, which made it a last resort. The new arrival entered the world in the evening, and promptly began screaming its presence at all who'd listen. The cost of this life was dear.

Emotional at having nothing to eat and little sleep, Scorpius stared down at the babe asleep in his arms, blue eyes shining up at him as she drank from the bottle he held. The love he felt for her was far beyond what he had imagined. It encouraged him to cast aside his doubts, even as tears began to form in his eyes. He was a dad.

His was a lonely road.

Rose's funeral was a sombre affair. Scorpius couldn't help but cry. He kissed his daughter's cheek and said goodbye, as was only appropriate. He wanted to run. The church was cold, black and full of demons, looking at him with accusations in their eyes. If he hadn't been so reckless… he hadn't thought of the consequences….

He held Rosalyn tight and was brave enough to hold his head high.

He was given a few months off work, and soon realised parenting was a career in its own right. She slept in his bedroom, in a small cot beside him, and he was soon an expert at waking in the middle of the night, just before she started screaming, to feed her. She slept a lot for the first few months, but soon she was active, racing across the carpet after a ball. By six months of age, she'd giggle at bubbles in the bath. By the time she was one-year-old, she would hold on to chairs to keep herself stood up as she tried to grab at the cat. Her grandmother bought her a dress 'for best' for Christmas that year, and she wore it to her Christening. Scorpius wasn't religious and he didn't see the point in it, but Rose was, and Rose would have wanted it. Scorpius thought he loved her more now she wasn't here than he ever did while she was alive.

It wasn't long after this that she learned to speak. Her first word was 'no', but after that soon came a strange rendition of banana, and 'choo!-choo!' whenever she saw a train. She developed a young love of animals and Scorpius attempted to satiated her curious mind with time outdoors. He was determined that whatever she wanted to do, whoever she wanted to be, he'd help her get there.

She was almost two when Scorpius realised he'd rather be here, with Rosalyn Malfoy demanding chocolate for every meal, than anywhere else in the world. He wondered if every parent felt had the same epiphany, that they were the happiest people on earth now, that their hearts could all of a sudden contain more love than they ever thought themselves possible of.

When she was older, discipline was more of a problem. She was a challenge, appearing to combine the worst of both her mother and father in the same breath. She was too cool to spend time with him now. She was building her own foundations, drawing out the imprint of her life. Scorpius didn't complain. He'd carried her this far, it was up to her carry herself now. He was patient.

On her eighteenth birthday, he took out the bunny rabbit teddy with button eyes she'd had since before she was born. The one Rose had bought for her, and brought to the hospital. He explained the story, and gave it to her one more time, like he had done way back then. He looked at the woman his baby girl had become and allowed the tears to fall.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered.

"No," she told him, smiling. "I came into this world the moment my mother left it. You didn't have to step up. You didn't have to be strong enough. I affected every aspect of your life, all the adjustments you had to make… I don't know how you managed to bear it, when you were no older than I am now. You made yourself a constant in my life. The calm in the middle of every storm was always you. I'm proud of you, dad."


	29. Susan Bones: Priorities

**Written for:**  
**Writing Club:** 100 Prompts in One Story - Advantage, Lesson, Mistake, Make, Bottom, Far, Lower, Basic, Pass, Nobody, Minimum, Inevitable, Expect, Potential, Live, Minute, Count, Focus, Long, Night, Credit, Grab, Judgement, Bookshelf, Friend, Class, Decent, Miss, Experience, Lose, Page, Fix, Group, Connect, Boring, Classroom, Might, Assumption, Interest, Free, Conflict, Feeling, Fault, Girl, Forget, Blind, Know, Narrow, Father, Look, Guidance, Option, Impression, Cause, Conclusion, Extent, Independence, Inspection, Hogwarts, Calculate, League, Level, Meeting, March, Girlfriend, Help, Kill, Manage, Maybe, Examination, Grass, Advance, Formal, Little, Concentrate, Feel, Mate, Get, Give, Dungeon, Mention, Detail, Happen, Harm, Apart, Example, Hand, Have, Equivalent, Catch, Must, Final, Last, Leadership, Doughnut, Cancel, Degree, Extension, Grandmother, Check,  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 206\. Concentration

* * *

**Priorities**

Susan Bones had never had the advantage. No matter the lesson, it was inevitable she would make a mistake. She'd never quite been bottom of her class, but she'd remained far lower than the majority since first year, scraping the basic minimum required for a pass. Nobody expected her to get very decent grades; she was predicted 'A's all across the board.

But Susan was expecting far better for herself this year. She knew that A grades in her OWLs would not be good enough to proceed to NEWT Level, and she had dreams and potential. She needed NEWTs to get to where she wanted to be, to live how she wanted to live. So she worked hard. Every minute counted for Susan, and she'd be focusing on homework long into the night. Whenever opportunities arose for extra credit, she grabbed at the chance. Her better judgement often told her she should be sleeping, or eating, taking a break from the dusty bookshelf in the dorm to spend time with her friends. She knew she was missing out; there were experiences she'd lose to the pages. For Susan, there was only one way she could fix it. The harder she worked now, the better her life would be in the future. The more she'd be able to do then.

Her usual group, the ones she used to connect with, told her she'd got boring. They didn't wait for her when they filed out of the classroom anymore. They stopped mentioning their plans to her as things she might want to join in on. They began to make the assumption that she'd say no, that she wouldn't be interested, that she preferred to spend her free time elsewhere.

Susan had never felt so conflicted. There was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that told her she was at fault; that the girl she had become was good at forgetting what was most important; that she was blind when it came to the things she thought she'd always known. But then she thought of her father, and his narrow view of the world. She thought of the look on his face if she failed. She knew his guidance: the options he would give her. It was the only guidance that had ever left an impression.

Susan was desperate to show her independence, and here at Hogwarts, she could. She could make her own choices and draw her own conclusions. She didn't realise the extent of the damage done until afterwards, when a thorough inspection allowed her to calculate the true cause of her conclusion. Hindsight is wise and terrible adversary.

She sat on the grass, outside the dungeons, and watched the world. It was March, and the formal examinations were a little over two months away. If Susan could concentrate, she'd be able to advance. The problem was, she didn't feel like she wanted to anymore. Her old mates were meeting up in front of her, over by the lake. It was their usual spot. She was surprised to see that Ernie MacMillan Had managed to find himself a girlfriend, but it made her smile nonetheless. With a sad, heavy heart, she admitted to herself that maybe, just maybe, by focusing so much on her level, on an imaginary league table of students, she'd helped to kill the thing she loved the most. She'd harmed her relationships with the very people who would have given her a helping hand, if only she'd asked. They'd fallen apart, and Susan had watched it happen. She felt like a walking example of what not to do, in intricate detail.

At last, she tried to catch herself as the final hurdle approached. The Easter holidays were a long two weeks for broken bridges: they could crumble into the ocean just as quickly as they could be fixed. She cancelled her plans for the last Saturday – they were only with herself, anyway. She knew she'd have to go right to the top, to the leadership, to the Queen Bee equivalent in the Hufflepuff group. She bought doughnuts at Hogsmeade and went to find Hannah.

"Hey," Susan said with a smile. Hannah looked up in wide-eyed surprise as Susan held out the sweet treats. "I know you must think I'm an idiot. I got so worked up about the exams I turned my back on you guys."

"To a degree," Hannah reluctantly agreed, and then smiled. "Are you back then?"

"I guess so. I took a reality check," Susan smiled back, amazed that she'd been so easily forgiven.

"Good. My grandmother's invited you over for dinner on Easter Sunday. She's finished building that extension and wants an excuse to show it off," Hannah replied, drifting back into the friendship like nothing had ever happened.

Susan smiled as she accepted the invitation and let out a long deep breath.


	30. Charlie: Rings

**Written for:  
****Writing Bingo:** Charlie Weasley  
**200 Characters in 200 Days:** Charlie Weasley  
**Valentine-Making Station:** Orange Ribbon - Write about the Weasleys  
**Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Ghoul - Incorporate a ghoul into your story.  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 675\. Rings  
**Words:** 497

* * *

**Rings**

The ghoul stalked the attic, wearing rings into the floor with his ceaseless circling. The groans and creeks of the floorboards were heard in the rooms below. Charlie lay awake listening to them. He would try and guess whereabouts in the attic the ghoul was by the sound. It was louder when the ghoul was above him. Charlie thought that he'd circled the attic for so long, there was probably a visible mark on the floor of where he'd been, some evidence of his passing, a worn ring about the space.

Rings. There'd been a lot of rings, recently. It had started with Percy and Audrey. It seemed when Bill married Fleur, many years ago, that had been okay. He was the oldest; it was okay. But with Percy and Audrey, some sort of invisible pressure not to be outdone seemed to take over Charlie's siblings, and the race was on. Harry and Ginny managed it next, followed closely by George and Angelina. Ron had been last. There were so many rings in the family, Charlie thought, they could have their own seat at the dinner table. He counted them, in his head, two for each couple, not failing to include his parents. Twelve. A perfect dozen. He held his own bare hand up to examine it under the pale light of the moon streaming in through the window. He had the strangest notion that, somehow, a ring just wouldn't quite suit him. It wouldn't sit right on his fingers. When he looked at Percy's hand, it was as if the ring had always been there, as if it was as much a part of him as the finger itself. On his own hand, he thought, a ring would look alien.

He sighed. The ring he could take or leave. He didn't mind that. It was only a band of metal, after all. When you took away the symbolism, it wasn't anything particularly special. What Charlie struggled with was the loneliness. He wasn't used to it. He was raised in a house full of life; he'd never been alone, even when he'd wanted to be.

He remembered a time in Romania when he hadn't been lonely, too. He'd not been there long when he met Jack. Jack had been only a year older than him, and fairly new to the dragon business himself, but he'd shared what knowledge he had accumulated. He'd helped Charlie as much as he could, taking him under his wing. They quickly became good friends. Charlie didn't feel lonely around Jack, not ever. When it came time for the goodbye, it was quick and awkward, and neither of them really said anything worth saying. He'd lain awake in bed that night, too, staring at the ceiling.

In the morning, he decided, he'd write to Jack. Find out where he was, what he was up to. Maybe it was time he visited his old friend, caught up. Maybe it was time he was honest.


	31. Eileen: Only Passion

**Written for:  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Challenge:** Samson Wiblin – Prompts: Sun, Blast, Beat, Excellent.  
**200 Characters in 200 Days:** Eileen Prince.  
**Writing Bingo:** Eileen Prince.  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 335\. It's Nobody's Business  
**Words:** 319  
**A/N:** It's said in the books that Severus Snape knew more curses and dark magic than most seventh years by the time he arrived at Hogwarts, so I explored that idea a little.

* * *

**Only Passion**

It was nobody's business and that was that. Eileen saw the looks the women gave her on the street. She saw the pity in their eyes. It turned her dour face sourer. They could throw her those looks all they wanted, but they should keep their noses out. It wouldn't change anything, and it's not like they understood anyway. None of their husbands found out their wife was magical on their wedding nights. None of them knew what it did to a family.

So Eileen kept her face out of the sun, away from the crowds, and stayed inside as much as she could. It was an excellent plan, she thought, and it kept her husband happy, because he didn't like her going out without his permission anyway.

Her husband wasn't abusive. He wasn't. Eileen knew he loved her and their son. He just got angry sometimes, but then Eileen did too, and Eileen had magic, so when they both got angry, he inevitably came off worse. Her own son even asked her once why she let him beat her up, and she just laughed. She told him she didn't. They were just passionate people. It was normal for them, and she hurt him, too. Severus just frowned and walked away.

Eileen had even seen her son with her wand, ten years old, practicing the curses she'd thrown at his father when he'd thrown her to the floor, amongst broken glass. Severus couldn't quite get the hang of them, but she was certain he'd get there as she watched him blast a hole through his bedroom door. The spells were dark magic, of course, and much too advanced for a ten-year-old, but it made her smile nonetheless. It meant he might be able to defend himself at Hogwarts if anyone tried to bully him. It meant his classmates would be impressed with his skill. It meant he'd do well.


	32. Theodore: The London Tube

**Written for:**  
**Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Alguff the Awful – Incorporate someone who smells horrid in your story.  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 903\. Unnatural Selection  
**School of Prompts:** Theodore Nott  
**200 Characters in 200 Days:** Theodore Nott  
**Words:** 637

* * *

**The London Tube**

Theo hated being in any sort of close proximity with muggles. They were boorish and uncivilised beasts who were much better off far away from Theo. The only problem with this was that London was so overcrowded, it was next to impossible to Apparate into the city centre. This was a problem for Theo, as he'd recently moved into a newly built house, and it seemed there were some missing documents that meant it was taking weeks for the Ministry to approve a connection to the Floo Network. This left Theo with very little choice on how he travelled to work in Diagon Alley, and he was stuck on the London Tube, a daily annoyance for London's muggle commuters and a haven for some of the worst characters.

On his first morning braving the muggle system, Theo was pleased to find the tickets fairly plain and simple. They were easy for him to forge with his magical talents, meaning he at least didn't have to pay for the ghastly experience.

There was a musician just inside the gates, his electric guitar hooked up to crude muggle speaker, meaning the tinny, garbled sound echoed down the tunnel in every direction. Theo curled his lip as he passed the man in annoyance at the uncomfortable sound.

The signs were easy to follow, and Theo soon found himself on a platform swarming with muggles. He weaved through the crowd to find the quietest spot to stand in, distaste written all over his features for every traveller to see.

The wait for the carriage wasn't long, but Theo could see the cars were already busy. He only hoped he'd be able to find a seat.

Pushing his way onto the train, Theo spotted two seats free at the end of an aisle, and sat himself down in the one furthest away from the muggle woman sat in the next seat along, leaving a single seat gap. A few people eyed up the seat, but the look of intense loathing on Theo's face seemed to put them off the idea of sitting down, deciding the ride would be most comfortable stood up rather than sat next to such a man as him.

That was, of course, until a man who looked much worse than Theo made his way through the carriage. The man wore a cheap pair of jeans, covered in holes and unidentifiable stains, along with a band t-shirt depicting men with very long hair and strange makeup. This, too, was rather holey, and rather grey around the edges.

As he passed people, Theo noticed some turning away, holding their noses, while others coughed. The man staggered around, struggling disproportionately with the motion of the train. He was clearly intoxicated, though whether it was with alcohol or something altogether more sinister was anyone's guess.

Theo could smell the man from more than three feet away, body odour mixing with urine and alcohol, the aroma of days' old food and the earthy, crude stench of the more unsavoury streets of the capital. He eyed up the chair beside Theo just as Theo's eyes began to water and his stomach turn. Theo knew, he just knew, the man would take the seat. It was some sort of unwritten rule of unnatural selection.

They began to pull into the next station and Theo read the sign, looking up at the infographic on the wall of the car, working out how many more stops he had to go. Five. Five stations sat next to what was less of a man, and more of a blob made up of the worst perfumes known to mankind.

Theo made a spur of the moment decision, and as the train's doors opened, he leapt up and disembarked with as much speed as he could muster. He stopped on the platform and turned around to face the lines. He'd wait for the next one.


	33. Hannah: When the Stars Went Out

**Written for:  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Club Challenge:** Helga Hufflepuff – Write about a Hufflepuff.  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 139\. Water Under The Bridge  
**200 Characters in 200 Days:** Hannah Abbott  
**Valentine-Making Challenge: **Yellow Ribbon – Write about a Hufflepuff**  
Words:** 473

* * *

**When The Stars Went Out**

My mum used to bake a lot. Every time I'd come home from school, she'd make bread and cake the day before so they were waiting for me. It was her little treat, she used to say, every summer, Christmas and Easter. She loved the kitchen. I know it's a bit of a stereotype, but she did. It was where she could get some alone time, where she could relax. It didn't matter who'd cooked; every evening after dinner was the same. We'd all help clear the table, and then she'd shut herself in that room and turn on the Wizarding Wireless Network. She'd wipe down all the units, mop the floor, wash the pots and pans, tidy everything away, all the while singing or humming along to whatever song came on. She'd say it made her feel happy in the mornings to walk into a sparkling clean kitchen. She was a talented witch, but she preferred to do it the muggle way. She said it was more satisfying.

With me and my brother around, the kitchen didn't always stay tidy. I tried to bake a cake all by myself when I was nine, and the bag of flour fell off the table. The white powder spilled everywhere, billowing up like a cloud of steam, settling on every possible surface. My mum came in, and I was absolutely certain I was about to get scolded. Instead, she took one look at the room and burst out in a fit of laughter. Things like that, they were water under the bridge for her. A part of growing up, she always said, was to get as muddy and messy as possible, and trail it through as much of the house as we possibly could. We certainly never intended to do that, but that doesn't mean we didn't.

Every time I went back to school, it was just taken as a given that my mum would be there when I went back home. It was just a fact of life, as unquestionable as the sky being blue or the stars coming out at night. My mum was just always there.

Until she wasn't.

All my life the stars had come out at night, filling the night sky with their twinkling pin pricks of light. I never really stopped to consider them, or think about them. I never considered what life would be like without them. I never really appreciated them.

When my mum died, it was like the stars went out. Like one night, they all just disappeared, with no warning. My life didn't change much, on the surface. I still went to school, had the same friends, got the same grades. But there was a darkness about the world where there used to be light.

A hole that would never be filled again.

An absence.


	34. Linfred: Long Before Dawn

**Written for:  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Linfred of Stinchcombe – Write about Linfred.  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 877\. New Born  
**200 Characters in 200 Days:** Linfred of Stinchcombe  
**Valentine-Making Station:** White Ribbon – Write about a newborn baby.  
**Words:** 342

* * *

**Long Before Dawn**

Linfred was woken many hours before daybreak by a harsh rap-tapping upon his door. He dressed quickly and lit a candle, rushing to unbolt his door and admit access to whoever it was on the other side. He was less than surprised to see one of the village's new mothers waiting with a stricken expression, clutching her child to her chest as if love might be enough to save it.

"Linfred, oh, Linfred," she began as she bustled into his home, placing her child on his kitchen table as he moved about the room with his taper, giving light to his lamps. "I do 'ope you can help. I don't know what's wrong wi' poor Albert. He's got a fever, see, and it's got worse in the night. He won't eat, bless 'im. Tell me there's somethin' you can do," the young woman begged, stroking her son's head in an effort to calm him.

Linfred took one look at the newborn child and knew something was desperately wrong. The child was fidgeting, uncomfortable, and making a quiet, whimpering sound. He wasn't screaming, and that was a tell-tale sign in one so young.

He turned away, saying nothing, and opened his cabinet of potions, rifling around for the one he thought might do the trick. The muggle woman, of course, didn't know that the potions were magical. No one did, in fact, beside Linfred himself. All the villagers knew was that Linfred's remedies worked, and it was hardly in their best interests to question something that saved their lives.

He poured out the desired amount of the potion into a small vial, securing the top with a piece of cloth that the babe could suckle on, as was the custom. The babe suckled, and almost immediately appeared soothed. By the end of the vial, the child looked up at his mother and smiled.

"Oh, Linifred! Thank you, really. Thank you. I don't know what we'd do without you!" the mother cooed as she picked up her child, cuddling him into her chest.


	35. James Sirius: A Question of Legacies

**Written for Myths and Legends: Write about a first born child.**  
Also written for:  
**If You Dare Challenge:** 323\. Choose Your Side  
**Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Gerbold Ollivander-Write about someone getting into mortal peril but surviving unharmed.  
**Words:** 407

* * *

**A Question of Legacies**

James stood in shock. Scorpius stood at the end of a wand, moments away from his end. James knew why they were here. Scorpius felt cheated by his father's change of heart; Scorpius could have been so much more than he was if Voldemort had won. Or at least, that's how he saw it. History books never paint the truth, only a facsimile of it, and Scorpius had approached this picture from the wrong angle.

James had a choice. It wasn't an easy choice. He was the product of a two great legacies, two warriors for the cause. Men who had, between them, opposed the opening of the war and brought about its end.

What would they do? Scorpius fancied himself some kind of Neo-Death Eater. Scorpius was the enemy. James thought his grandfather's gravestone said it all. Enemies had to be destroyed.

James could stand by and let it happen.

Every time the two boys' fathers met, they regarded each other with reluctant respect. They had been enemies, but a life-debt had been owed and paid between them. They each saved their enemies.

James could save his life.

It felt like everything in his life had been easy up until this point. Like nothing had ever really mattered before, because he was a Potter, and that meant all doors had been left open for him. He'd never really had to make his mind up about anything.

But Life and Death were two entities locked in an eternal war. One holds on for a while but the other always wins in the end. They were much bigger than anything James had ever known before, and here he was, choosing between them, like the Hallows lived in his top pocket.

Destroy the enemy.

Save the enemy.

Act or don't act.

He knew what Albus would say. Albus was a Slytherin through and through, looking out for his own back and letting others fall in the process. Albus would watch and thank the stars he still had his own skin.

Lily would tell him that, "Inaction is an acceptance. Inaction is acquiescence." Lily would have saved the life already.

James saw the man with the wand raise it higher, draw in a breath, and begin to speak.

"Expelliarmus!" James didn't remember making the choice, but he'd made it. The offending wand flew into James' hand as two faces turned to look at him in shock. "No one's dying tonight."


	36. MollyII: Someone Else

**Written for:**  
**Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club:** Streeler – Write about someone changing their physical appearance without being a Metamorphagi.  
**200 Characters in 200 Days:** Molly Weasley II  
**Valentine-Making Station:** Candy—Wax Lips: Write about a character changing his/her appearance.  
**If You Dare… Challenge:** 738\. Broken Wings  
**Words:** 482

* * *

**Someone Else**

She remembered every word they'd ever said. Staring into the depths of the mirror, illuminated by wand light, Molly could see their words, tattooed on her skin. Of course he didn't want her. How could anyone want her? She had sheep-hair, bug-eyes, gorilla-arms, raisin-boobs, rabbit-teeth and an arse like an old man's ball sack.

The way they'd sounded, those words, as if she was supposed to find them funny. As if it was a fact that she was not pretty, and so not worth fussing over, so let's look on the bright side, eh? It was like funeral humour the dead could hear.

But Molly never responded with laughter. Sometimes, her cheeks would burn beneath her makeup, and she'd hope it wasn't showing. Sometimes, her pulse would quicken as if she was preparing to run from the sounds. Sometimes, her blood would boil as if it wanted to break out of her and attack.

Every time, she felt as though she wasn't enough.

As Molly looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but cry. As the tears fell, she turned away and choked out a "Nox".

In the blackness, no one saw her turn her wand, pointing it towards herself. Above the wracking sobs, no one who could have heard her voice was able to make out the words.

Molly had read the books cover to cover, memorised their words as much as the insults. She knew the spells, they'd just never seemed to work before, when she was looking. Now, she was not looking. She didn't care what the results were. She only hoped that, when she turned back around to the mirror, relit her wand-tip, she would not see herself.

She felt the effects of the spells, felt her skin tighten across her face, felt her body shift and shape to the tune of her magic and desire. Molly flung every spell she knew at herself, and even some she wasn't sure of.

She gave up when the hitched breaths of her agonising tears wouldn't let her voice break forth anymore.

Molly turned back around, frightened to death that she'd see herself exactly as she had been.

She whispered a "Lumos", and turned her terrified eyes to the mirror.

Her eyes were different sizes, her hair a different colour. Her arms were shorter, breasts bigger, hips rounder. Her lips were angled and sharp, like those of a doll she used to own. The bones of her face were sharper, the fat sucked from them. Everything they'd ever criticised her for, Molly had fixed, and more besides. And she couldn't help but feel like a monster with broken wings.

And she couldn't help but feel like she still looked like herself.

A fit of fearful, sorrowful, miserable anger ran over her. Her fist hit out before she knew what she was doing. Glass pierced flesh as the mirror shattered.

Nothing changed.


End file.
